The following was written by Tracy Allen Persky, Lynda's son, in January, 2001.
My mother was the strongest, most loving woman that I have ever known. She showed her love for her husband and children in many ways every day. When my sister, Lisa, and I were young, she stayed home with us because she believed in the importance of a young child having a parent there all the time to see to their needs and to make them feel secure and loved. When we were a little older, she went to work so that she and my father could put us through college. She always knew just how much slack to give us and just how much rope to reign in when we needed it.
Her strength was shown by her faith in God. She was a strong Christian woman who served many years in the First Baptist Church of Bellville, Texas. She used her strength to battle cancer not once, but twice. When I was only 4 years old, she was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease, which is a type of Lymphoma. It was stage 3. The doctors did not know if she would make it, but after much prayer, chemotherapy, and cobalt radiation treatments, she fought off the disease. While she was ill, she prayed that God would allow her to see her children grown, and by His grace, she did.
She was with my sister when her first grandchild, Kimberly Rachel, was born. And she loved Kimberly and her second grandchild, Michael Giovanni very much.
My mother was an avid genealogist, and it is she, along with our cousin Marsha, who compiled the vast majority of the information in our family tree. I will always be grateful to her for sharing her passion for family history with me.
Over the last several years, I have been fortunate enough to be able to go on a number of vacations with Mom and Dad. We have always had a great time, and loved to laugh and just have fun together.
In late October of 1999, we were on our way back from one of these vacations. We had stopped in Bentonville, AR to see the Peel mansion, when I noticed that Mom's eyes were very yellow. I had thought that they were a little bloodshot earlier in the week, but I dismissed it as her eyes just being tired. But on that day, they were just too different than normal to ignore. We were, of course, very concerned, and we immediately started for home. Over the coming weeks, we learned that she had pancreatic cancer. My mother's resolve was as strong as ever. She was determined to fight. The doctors at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center scheduled surgery to remove the tumor, but it was inoperable. So once again, Mom faced chemotherapy.
She grew physically weaker and weaker over the next year, but her internal strength never wavered. A week before she died, my father had to put her in the hospital. When I got there, I was determined to be strong for her and Dad, but I just could not help myself. I cried. Mom barely had the strength to move, but when she heard me crying, she reached up her hand, took mine in hers, and said, "Don't cry, sweet baby." That's the kind of mother she was. There she was so close to death, and she was still taking care of me.
She died at home a week later, on October 15, 2000, at 3:03a.m., with my father holding her hand.
I miss her very much, and I think about her every day. I know that I will survive, and I will even thrive because she left me some of her strength. But life will never be the same without her. I hope that this short article gives those of you close to her some comfort, and those who did not know her some insight into her character. She was very special indeed. As a dear friend of the family, Mrs. Flora Winn, said about her, "There's no better woman."
My mother was the strongest, most loving woman that I have ever known. She showed her love for her husband and children in many ways every day. When my sister, Lisa, and I were young, she stayed home with us because she believed in the importance of a young child having a parent there all the time to see to their needs and to make them feel secure and loved. When we were a little older, she went to work so that she and my father could put us through college. She always knew just how much slack to give us and just how much rope to reign in when we needed it.
Her strength was shown by her faith in God. She was a strong Christian woman who served many years in the First Baptist Church of Bellville, Texas. She used her strength to battle cancer not once, but twice. When I was only 4 years old, she was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease, which is a type of Lymphoma. It was stage 3. The doctors did not know if she would make it, but after much prayer, chemotherapy, and cobalt radiation treatments, she fought off the disease. While she was ill, she prayed that God would allow her to see her children grown, and by His grace, she did.
She was with my sister when her first grandchild, Kimberly Rachel, was born. And she loved Kimberly and her second grandchild, Michael Giovanni very much.
My mother was an avid genealogist, and it is she, along with our cousin Marsha, who compiled the vast majority of the information in our family tree. I will always be grateful to her for sharing her passion for family history with me.
Over the last several years, I have been fortunate enough to be able to go on a number of vacations with Mom and Dad. We have always had a great time, and loved to laugh and just have fun together.
In late October of 1999, we were on our way back from one of these vacations. We had stopped in Bentonville, AR to see the Peel mansion, when I noticed that Mom's eyes were very yellow. I had thought that they were a little bloodshot earlier in the week, but I dismissed it as her eyes just being tired. But on that day, they were just too different than normal to ignore. We were, of course, very concerned, and we immediately started for home. Over the coming weeks, we learned that she had pancreatic cancer. My mother's resolve was as strong as ever. She was determined to fight. The doctors at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center scheduled surgery to remove the tumor, but it was inoperable. So once again, Mom faced chemotherapy.
She grew physically weaker and weaker over the next year, but her internal strength never wavered. A week before she died, my father had to put her in the hospital. When I got there, I was determined to be strong for her and Dad, but I just could not help myself. I cried. Mom barely had the strength to move, but when she heard me crying, she reached up her hand, took mine in hers, and said, "Don't cry, sweet baby." That's the kind of mother she was. There she was so close to death, and she was still taking care of me.
She died at home a week later, on October 15, 2000, at 3:03a.m., with my father holding her hand.
I miss her very much, and I think about her every day. I know that I will survive, and I will even thrive because she left me some of her strength. But life will never be the same without her. I hope that this short article gives those of you close to her some comfort, and those who did not know her some insight into her character. She was very special indeed. As a dear friend of the family, Mrs. Flora Winn, said about her, "There's no better woman."
The following was written by Tracy Allen Persky, Lynda's son, in January, 2001.
My mother was the strongest, most loving woman that I have ever known. She showed her love for her husband and children in many ways every day. When my sister, Lisa, and I were young, she stayed home with us because she believed in the importance of a young child having a parent there all the time to see to their needs and to make them feel secure and loved. When we were a little older, she went to work so that she and my father could put us through college. She always knew just how much slack to give us and just how much rope to reign in when we needed it.
Her strength was shown by her faith in God. She was a strong Christian woman who served many years in the First Baptist Church of Bellville, Texas. She used her strength to battle cancer not once, but twice. When I was only 4 years old, she was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease, which is a type of Lymphoma. It was stage 3. The doctors did not know if she would make it, but after much prayer, chemotherapy, and cobalt radiation treatments, she fought off the disease. While she was ill, she prayed that God would allow her to see her children grown, and by His grace, she did.
She was with my sister when her first grandchild, Kimberly Rachel, was born. And she loved Kimberly and her second grandchild, Michael Giovanni very much.
My mother was an avid genealogist, and it is she, along with our cousin Marsha, who compiled the vast majority of the information in our family tree. I will always be grateful to her for sharing her passion for family history with me.
Over the last several years, I have been fortunate enough to be able to go on a number of vacations with Mom and Dad. We have always had a great time, and loved to laugh and just have fun together.
In late October of 1999, we were on our way back from one of these vacations. We had stopped in Bentonville, AR to see the Peel mansion, when I noticed that Mom's eyes were very yellow. I had thought that they were a little bloodshot earlier in the week, but I dismissed it as her eyes just being tired. But on that day, they were just too different than normal to ignore. We were, of course, very concerned, and we immediately started for home. Over the coming weeks, we learned that she had pancreatic cancer. My mother's resolve was as strong as ever. She was determined to fight. The doctors at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center scheduled surgery to remove the tumor, but it was inoperable. So once again, Mom faced chemotherapy.
She grew physically weaker and weaker over the next year, but her internal strength never wavered. A week before she died, my father had to put her in the hospital. When I got there, I was determined to be strong for her and Dad, but I just could not help myself. I cried. Mom barely had the strength to move, but when she heard me crying, she reached up her hand, took mine in hers, and said, "Don't cry, sweet baby." That's the kind of mother she was. There she was so close to death, and she was still taking care of me.
She died at home a week later, on October 15, 2000, at 3:03a.m., with my father holding her hand.
I miss her very much, and I think about her every day. I know that I will survive, and I will even thrive because she left me some of her strength. But life will never be the same without her. I hope that this short article gives those of you close to her some comfort, and those who did not know her some insight into her character. She was very special indeed. As a dear friend of the family, Mrs. Flora Winn, said about her, "There's no better woman."
My mother was the strongest, most loving woman that I have ever known. She showed her love for her husband and children in many ways every day. When my sister, Lisa, and I were young, she stayed home with us because she believed in the importance of a young child having a parent there all the time to see to their needs and to make them feel secure and loved. When we were a little older, she went to work so that she and my father could put us through college. She always knew just how much slack to give us and just how much rope to reign in when we needed it.
Her strength was shown by her faith in God. She was a strong Christian woman who served many years in the First Baptist Church of Bellville, Texas. She used her strength to battle cancer not once, but twice. When I was only 4 years old, she was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease, which is a type of Lymphoma. It was stage 3. The doctors did not know if she would make it, but after much prayer, chemotherapy, and cobalt radiation treatments, she fought off the disease. While she was ill, she prayed that God would allow her to see her children grown, and by His grace, she did.
She was with my sister when her first grandchild, Kimberly Rachel, was born. And she loved Kimberly and her second grandchild, Michael Giovanni very much.
My mother was an avid genealogist, and it is she, along with our cousin Marsha, who compiled the vast majority of the information in our family tree. I will always be grateful to her for sharing her passion for family history with me.
Over the last several years, I have been fortunate enough to be able to go on a number of vacations with Mom and Dad. We have always had a great time, and loved to laugh and just have fun together.
In late October of 1999, we were on our way back from one of these vacations. We had stopped in Bentonville, AR to see the Peel mansion, when I noticed that Mom's eyes were very yellow. I had thought that they were a little bloodshot earlier in the week, but I dismissed it as her eyes just being tired. But on that day, they were just too different than normal to ignore. We were, of course, very concerned, and we immediately started for home. Over the coming weeks, we learned that she had pancreatic cancer. My mother's resolve was as strong as ever. She was determined to fight. The doctors at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center scheduled surgery to remove the tumor, but it was inoperable. So once again, Mom faced chemotherapy.
She grew physically weaker and weaker over the next year, but her internal strength never wavered. A week before she died, my father had to put her in the hospital. When I got there, I was determined to be strong for her and Dad, but I just could not help myself. I cried. Mom barely had the strength to move, but when she heard me crying, she reached up her hand, took mine in hers, and said, "Don't cry, sweet baby." That's the kind of mother she was. There she was so close to death, and she was still taking care of me.
She died at home a week later, on October 15, 2000, at 3:03a.m., with my father holding her hand.
I miss her very much, and I think about her every day. I know that I will survive, and I will even thrive because she left me some of her strength. But life will never be the same without her. I hope that this short article gives those of you close to her some comfort, and those who did not know her some insight into her character. She was very special indeed. As a dear friend of the family, Mrs. Flora Winn, said about her, "There's no better woman."
